All staff had to fulfill certain duties as assigned by the superintendent of the hostel. Sometimes we were overseeing meals in the student dining hall. Other times, we were on duty supervising student homework periods. We also had to carry out other duties, especially in the afternoons when sports were mandated. I decided I would supervise the girls’ swim teams, though I suspect many of those students could probably outswim me. I had learned to swim at school, and knew I was a strong swimmer, but I certainly wasn’t going to put myself to the test against teenagers who had spent three-quarters of their lives in various swimming pools! I was also used to diving, but never from a diving board. Unfazed, and not having any knowledge of First Aid, nor of rescue techniques, something that shocks me today now that I am older and wiser, I made up swim routines and tried my best to correct poor stroke techniques in the students. With a whistle hanging round my neck, at least I looked as if I knew what I was doing! Fortunately, no-one ever needed rescuing on my watch.
Not so, in one of my homework supervision periods. I remember the day clearly: 30 or more teenage girls in a large classroom; absolute quiet; everyone working hard, heads down, concentrating on their respective assignments. I was seated at a table on a raised platform so that I could see the pupils in front of me. The classroom door was open to let in a breeze. The sun was shining, and the sky was blue.
All was quiet until I sensed something was amiss. The girls in the front row were getting panicky about something, and there was sudden movement accompanied by gasps of terror. I looked up from my table, wondering what was happening. It didn’t take me long to find out. Slithering across the floor from the open door was a large snake!
I have always hated snakes, refusing to touch even the corpse of a dead snake killed by my father. I had no idea whether the approaching snake was poisonous or not. Normally, I would be panic-stricken, desperate to get away, but I must admit that even I was surprised at what I did next. Without thinking, I grabbed a broom that had been left propped up against the wall by my table, leapt off the raised platform and swept that serpent out of the door, not allowing it to escape from under the bristles. When it was safely gone, disappearing outside into the bush beyond, I turned to the girls and said calmly, “No need to panic. The snake has gone, and it wasn’t that big, in any case! (Not true!) Settle down now, girls! Back to work!” Everyone did so, except for me. I sat down at my desk, feeling ill, shaking like a leaf, with my heart pounding, wondering how on earth I had managed to stay so calm in the face of such danger.
One other memory comes to the fore when I think of my time at the school. It shocks me as much now as it did then. However, I could not do anything about it. I was angry at the injustice, though. Several months into my tenure I discovered that a young geography teacher was earning a lot more money than I was. We were in similar positions, both first-year teachers, both having qualified at the same university with the same post-graduate degree. Why was he being paid so much more than me? Because, yes, only because he was a male and I was a female. Males, so I learned, were paid more than women, and it had always been thus. How unfair was that, I seethed, but I knew all too well that I couldn’t afford to cause any ripples in the system. I was helpless. I was also furious but tried to calm myself down. So far, I thought to myself, I have coped with living in a hostel, with training a swim team, and with sweeping aside a large snake. So now I must learn to ignore the injustice of this discrimination. It was not that easy, though, especially as I saw the geography teacher every day in the staffroom.
